Sutoratosu

It was a whirlwind of fercoity, in those final moments. A jab through the heart, it was all it took for the soldier to go down. No hesitation, just a single fluid action as Marek kicked the corpse off his lance and snatched up the Glaive as it fell, Lance in one hand and newly acquired pole-arm gracing the other. There from his side came a shout he was most familiar with, the cry of the indigenous Brigand, and he turned just in time to feel the heavy axe bite into his shoulder, but his retaliation was just as swift, before the man could pull his weapon back, already darkness surged around Marek's lance... "Oh, you think you can fuck with Brigand's Bane, mate? Think you're the one pirate to rule em all?" and with that he called forth to the heavens "O' NIGHTLY FATHER, HOLLOWED BE THY NAME- SHOW HIM THE EDGE OF OBLIVION!" And yay truly, for answer his god indeed- or at least the spirits of the dark -did, as several more spears of ethereal night blossomed around the warrior's own, surging forward and perforating not just the flesh of the Pirate, but just his very soul as well. Though the divine wrath the rider had called down had not been enough to fell him, the buccaneer was still left barely within an inch of his life, both body and spirit shattered...teetering ever closer to the valley of the shadow of death. But before Marek could deliver the final blow, there was an arrow, finding it's new home in the same shoulder that had been assaulted mere moments earlier. With a scoff, the Rider turned on the archer, snapping off the end of the projectile and tossing it back at the man with surprising force, arms outstretched in challenge as he addressed the man in utter disgust, ebony aura emanating off his very being. "Ha...hahahahahahaa.... aaaaaah. IS THAT THE BEST YOU GOT, WORM!? PATHETIC! IF YOU INTEND TO LEAVE THIS SHIP ALIVE, THEN SHOW ME THE MIGHT THAT CRUSHED THE CAPITOL, OR I WILL GRIND YOU INTO THE DIRT UNTIL NOT EVEN DUST REMAINS! YOU BETTER START RUNNING, SON, CAUSE YOU'RE ABOUT TO EXPERIENCE THE WRATH OF THE FATHER JUST LIKE YOUR FRIEND HERE!!!" A step forward, bringing up his lance to strike down the Archer, a war cry peircing the air between them. By the time the elder ones showed him the flash of splashing waves and boots hitting the deck however, it was already too late. Coming out of the warning trance, he once more turned just in time to see another of these damn sea rats ambush him, this one's axe carving into his ribs. And like that, the aura surrounding him faded, as he viciously tried to skewer the man as he had the first one, only to find his strength failing, the world fading, as the lance and glaive both slipped from his grasp and clattered to the deck, and he followed soon after on a knee. "T...think you're a... big man now, don't ya... mate? Think you can gloat... cause you took out Brigands Bane..." hehehehehehehehehe HAHAHAHA, you're... you're gonna have to try harder... than this. Much...Much harder. When I get back up... you're fucking dead, wandrought... ya hear me? DEAD!" and with that final bit of defiant fire, he collapsed to the deck, applying what pressure he could to his wounds as consciousness slowly escaped him, and he faded into the abyss...

There was silence for a moment, as Belros sulked in his cell, before... "So you really do blame yourself then... don't think you deserve to be here now. Sometimes you just want to go back and trade places with them, or stop it all from happening altogether...keep thinking about the what ifs, the maybes." "Yeh... Yeh I know that feeling...all too well." Something slammed on the bars from her cell down the hall. He couldn't see it, but she gripped the bars bone white, as she looked towards where he and the others were "But listen to me: you need to snap the fuck out of it, right now!" the words had come perhaps a bit more forcefully than intended, but regardless she continued on before the spy had a chance to question her meaning "That Self-Pity it isn't gonna get you anywhere! I get it... you keep telling yourself there was something you could've done, something you should've done to stop it.... that they're dead because of you. You wish more than anything, that you could go back and swap places somehow, that you didn't deserve to live. But the longer you keep telling yourself that, the longer you're going to keep being blind! She sacrificed herself for you, didn't she? She gave her own life so you wouldn't have to, bought you time that she and the rest of them would never get the chance to see... just as my Father did for me. So what are you going to do with that time?! Spend it all feeling sorry for yourself, let her, no, all their deaths, be in vain?! Or are you going to wake up and realize you can't change the god damn past, but the future is still in your reach? If you feel so damn guilty then DO SOMETHING about it other than run off trying to martyr yourself!" "Dying is easy... It's living that's hard. But people like us? The one's they gave it all up for?" "We owe it to the ones who died so we could go on... to see it through to the end, to do what they couldn't, what they'll never get the chance to. So stop trying to get yourself killed, Belros. Stop throwing away the chance your friend was kind enough to give you. It's not noble, and it's not going to bring you any atonement... it's just being selfish."

"Heh, I'll take that as a 'yes', then." That said he moved forward. With a silent evocation of the Elder Spirits, the halberd he carried in his hands vanished in a flash of black flames, replaced by the lighter, more maneuverable spear he'd looted from Captain Wandrought so many days ago, preparing a strike to end the poor fool. K23, Skewer soldier boi with Slim Lance

"Geez, that was all supposed to just be sarcasm..." "Guess I'm right though; they really do seem to be a House of criminals. Fun, we'll probably run into ol' Archibold's relatives then at some point, I doubt he's the only member of his line working on something as big as this. Oh well, just more feral pigs to be gutted, doesn't really matter anymore. They drew undo attention upon themselves by trying to interfere with the royal guard, and if that results in their pathetic little bloodline being razed from root to stem, then so be it." "How about you tell us a bit about this "Silver Raven" guild of yours though? Considering we've run into them multiple times and probably will many more, it would be useful to know some actual background on them. And while we're on the subject... just who was this certain someone you lost when it all turned to shit? What did they have to do with all this? Were they someone important within the guild's ranks?"

"Never heard of the asshole or any house called "Nemo" before. Infact- Nemo literally means "No One"... great, just when I thought this mess couldn't get any shadier. But fine, what does he do, pray tell? Surely this "House Nemo" must have something they're famous for, some product or skillset? Would it happen to be having a hand in the underworld and it's many underhanded dealings, covertly killing all rivals until they're the last standing, expanding their influence until it covers all of the isles?"

"So you basically intended to martyr yourself to buy some time..." She sighed, not entirely sure whether to condemn the idea for the disastrous outcome or at least give the thief credit that at least there was something other than greed driving him. So in the end, she did neither. "I don't know whether your idea was foolhardy, noble, or both... but in all honesty it doesn't even matter any more, looking at where we are. What's done is done, unfortunately. But.... at least your answer hasn't given me cause to rescind how I defended you just a moment ago. Your methods have been weighed, measured, and found lacking... but perhaps your heart might tip the scales true still." "Next question: That arse who sprung this trap on us in the first place. This is his mansion, you've been here before and apparently met him, so who the fuck is he? I want to at least have a name to condemn as I'm gutting him like the feral pig he is."

"By the way, theif boy-" Cadence called out a few moments after the groups touching-but-not-so-touching moment of acknowledging that the spy was no great boon, but at the very least not an absolute peice of human trash either. For the time being, she began to work the dancer's ribbon back into her hair "There's something I've been wondering- what the actual fuck were you thinking when you just ran off in the opposite direction after we talked? Hm? You may have mentioned you intended to loot a couple things as we fought our way out, but I recall nothing of you ever suggesting a plan to split up. We were supposed to stick together, with the stronger ones pushing forward while the rest watched our back, so what the hell happened in between the time the rest of us started moving, and you ended up getting stuck so far behind and swarmed in the first room? Was your lust for whatever gilded shite that asshole nobleman keeps here so strong that you just forgot the plan?"

Cheryn The shield she sustained instantly expanded as the gout of flame burst from the gap, causing the entirety of the small blast to rebound right back into the room. Cheryn stepped away from the door, scowling deeply as the orange glow continued to flicker from beyond. She knew Caliber had a thing against the scientists, rightfully so in many regards, but... fucking hell. "If she did this... then she's a lot fucking crazier than I ever thought" She muttered to herself "Fuck me, there's no way i'm ever gonna be able to explain this to merlin... where the hell could the chick be though? From what I've seen, she's got nothing that would let her survive in a fire like that for very long... she must've set this and run off somewhere else. Gods damn it..." In all honesty though, she was surprised that this place apparently had no sprinkler or other automated fire suppression system to speak of. You'd think the Carls would've been smart enough to have foreseen potential fire hazards in a lab environment and plan accordingly to prevent undo damages to the facility, but you'd apparently be wrong. Still, she needed to see how bad the damage was inside, and figure out a way to put the kibosh on this fucking disaster before it spread to the rest of the facility. To think, she'd been given one job, one job, and now the the place was literally burning down... fabulous. Just... fabulous. She concentrated for a moment, and transferred the shield she carried to expand over the doorway itself, before muttering a quick warding charm- one of the earliest one's she'd come up with, intended to prevent harmful gases and vapors from seeping into the area it protected, a filtering charm basically. She manipulated a point in the middle of the door-barrier to project a miniature spike of solid radiation- spiked shields had always been an interest of hers in the past, but given the nature of her spark she'd always found the practical applications of their deterrence rather redundant, sure impaling those who slammed into them would be cool and all, but it was simpler, easier, and just as relatively effective to just stick to a basic shape and let the enemy die on the backlash from their own attacks. Nevertheless, old habits might have some use yet, as she extended the single spiked projection it until it made contact with the door, and proceeded to slowly nudge it open, hopefully creating a better glimpse of the destruction beyond without creating a backdraft, considering her shield in tandem with the ward should've effectively sealed off the burning room from this one...

Cheryn Cheryn kept her shield at the ready as she walked towards the door. Whatever lay beyond it, it probably wouldn't be good, but she was honestly used to it at this point. Edging a bit closer once she was finally near, she stopped just outside, listening for any sounds of movement or occupancy on the other side. She made sure to keep her own steps light in contrast, and the miniaturized barrier between her body and the entryway at all times...

Tesla B287 Tesla lifted her head up off the desk, looking as if she were about to say something, but paused as she turned to Deneb. Whatever she saw, it slowly became clear she was not looking at him anymore, but rather through him, eyes going wide with terror, glowing violet as favor instinctively surged and her entire body seemed to tense, much like a dog who was well aware of the master's imminent wrath. She shook her head, backing away from Deneb, backing out of the chair and falling to the floor, but not stopping in her retreat, muttering something softly under her breath, trembling more with each foot of ground she covered in that small space. "No, no no no no no no..." it went on, growing louder, louder. But nowhere near as loud as the surgical saws buzzing in her ears. Not as loud as the screams of those on the tables in other rooms, nor the hiss and hum of so many countless pieces of machinery. Even now, she could feel the cold steel ripping into flesh and bone, the frenzied burn of so many volts coursing through exposed nerves, the massive, throbbing aches in her skull whenever they decided they had enough results and dumped her back into the darkness, bandages still wet and warm with crimson stains she couldn't ever hope to see in the perpetual night of the abyss, and the contrasting sensation of hellfire licking every inch of muscle and nerve ending that would often accompany it those long stretches of insanity, when not even the sound of ones own thoughts could reach them, and no fire, no matter how pure and holy, nor righteous in it's fury, could ever penetrate that cloak of ebony. Even now she could feel herself deteriorating, losing whatever peice of herself there even was left. Breaking, cracking, crumbling, like the facade of a ruin. As she had back then, she attempted to scream, but even as her insistent cries of "no" melded into nothing but a sobbing, screeching cacphony of terror before Deneb's eyes, Tesla herself could hear nothing when she called out... For a guinea pig has no voice. Not now, not then, not ever. But they continue to squeal in vain regardless. Tesla- or rather the discarded mission asset, Subject B287 -had by this point backed away from Deneb until it's back was pressed flush to the wall of the car. Curled into a tight fetal position near the bed, it's arms craddled it's face, as if by simply blocking out the sense of sight it could banish it's other ones as well, violent sobs wracking it's body as cold sweat chilled it entire being. What little was visible of it's face had been practically soaked, even with yet more flowing down, and it's screams volumes reaching new heights. And through it all, it showed no signs of stopping.

"We all have our reasons for joining." She said to Myrdwyn "Yeh, the whole heist part isn't exactly the most... redeeming of confessions. But I think he's telling the truth. In the end he cared more about avenging his friends than he did about getting back into the good graces of his fellow rats. And that much at the very least, that bit of loyalty, is something I can respect. Up till now, I just thought he was some lowlife who'd been given a choice between using his skills to help the law or staying locked up to rot until he was executed or something- a felon only out for himself who was just taking the path with the most potential benefit in the long run. But I was wrong... even before this, there were a few times when he started to show he was more than that. In the poisoners shop, I told I'd kill him myself if he was up to something, that I'd make him pay if someone died because of any bullshit he caused. But his response was the complete opposite of what I'd been expecting from him. Then when that asshole left us all here and sicced his goons on us. He did it again, defied my expectations, said this was his fault, that if anyone got hurt in this, it should be him... and even right now, he's doing it again. So yeh, I think I've misjudged the dude. I've been trying to push that possibility away so far, but not anymore. He's definitely far from a hero or white knight, but he's not quite vermin either. I'd say he's half-decent."

The talks of escape and plans laid upon plans had grown to a halt for Cade as she listened to the Rog-... belros' explanation of this mess. Oh the irony... this was just history repeating itself then, and it certainly explained what he'd told her earlier about having a history in this place. She could not lay eyes upon him, but even so...perhaps for all hist faults, he wasn't just some criminal given a second chance he didn't deserve. Maybe he wasn't so bad afterall... "So that's the whole story, is it? Hmmm.... maybe I've misjudged you all this time."

Sully goes to see Lord, because it's been 13 years now and he wants some answers god damn it.

"Oh please, you give those wandroughts too much credit; they overwhelmed us through sheer force of numbers, not tactics..." Cade quipped back at the intelligence comment, very conveniently neglecting to mention how their own spy had decided to, for whatever reason, split off on his own after he'd talked to her about looting the place. Hmmmm still though, it seemed like the Garrote plan would prove quite complicated to pull off indeed. Luckily Emilee had apparently been thinking of something too. And much to Cade's surprise, it wasn't actually a half bad suggestion given the situation "Well even if they don't send a healer down here, it doesn't matter- someone's gonna get the short stick and have to come investigate. What matters is that we don't screw it up when the time comes. Plus from what you've said, my plan won't exactly be as smooth as I thought, so... Emilee's idea is the best thing we've got for now. Question is, who's gonna be acting out the fight?"

The sound of a girl grunting and something going taut is all that answers Darius at first. The sound of feet kicking off the floor, of the clanging of metal as they hit the bars. Before long though, there was Cade's was again, clearly concentrating on... something. "Oh trust me, them being armed is what I'm hoping for. it'll make the rest of the escape a bit easier" She was hanging from the bars of her cell door, with her full weight on the dancer ribbon that had once addorned her hair now, the band itself now wrapped through the bars with one end anchored to the wrist of her lame hand and the other gripped bone white in her functioning one, supporting her. She largely ignored the pain of her gimped wrist dislocating from the action- the Anima were just going to repair it soon enough anyway, so it didn't matter. She continued to hold the makeshift Garrote for a few moments longer before finally releasing, satisfied that yes, indeed it was sturdy enough for what she intended to do. The sound of her feet hitting the floor once again echoed as she continued. "Having a weapon will mean jack shit if we never give them the chance to use it- those idiots left my ribbon on me... and from my test just now, I'm fairly certain this thing will suffice as a Garrote" She returned her attention to the previous conversation with the skeptic however "but again, I need information if any of this is going to work. If the food bearers come down in pairs or more, then things will of course be a bit more complicated, but likely still manageable with enough practice and preparation. Hence, I ask you once more: When and How often do they come, and in how many numbers? If you don't know the times, try asking the spirits under your command."

"Inveniam viam aut faciam." She uttered quickly in some archaic tongue "Either find a way, or make one. If I misunderstand, then help me clear up that ignorance, and maybe you'll find the path to escaping this hell hole won't be as elusive as you have convinced yourself. I take it you've been down here at least for a little while, from your demeanor. Do you have any idea when or how often they bring the food? How many of them usually come down here, just one grunt, a pair, more?" Though none of them could actually see it, she was busying herself untying with the Dancer's Ribbon holding her hair back as she asked the question...

"Yeh, it's crazy, but crazy is kinda how you survive in our line of work," Cade suddenly cut in "but here's what I don't get is after listening to all this- maybe you don't buy into what Rayne's trying to convince you of, that we can break out of here, fine. But if you're so convinced the deck is stacked against you and you're dead either way, why sit in these cells and wait? You say you have to make do with what you have- well what you have is a shitty situation with us as company. Why not take your own advice and choose to die on your feet instead of your knees? Why let them decide when and where your final moments are gonna be? You stick around here, rot a little more, eventually they come for you, they kill you, the end. You go out on their terms not your own. You come with us and help in our little revolt though, yeh, you might die, we all might die. But you'll at least die making the most you could out of this mess. And who knows, you might even manage to take out a few bastards out with you."

"Good..." And of course, then the fighting started, like cats and dogs as the bard suddenly shouted. Cadence didn't even bother sighing. She was so past sighing at this point... "If any of you are going to tear someone's innards out, make it our captors at the very least. There's no point getting at each other's throats. The ones who put us here will be back soon enough, they spared us instead of doing the job their boss paid them for, that means they probably think it could be worth more for them if they use us as hostages. If they're smart, one of them will be on duty to come down here every once in a while to make sure nothing's happened. Even if they haven't done it so far, eventually, they'll have to feed us if they intend to use us as bargaining chips. All of you, calm down, wait. You're wasting energy shouting and banging on the bars. Just put your anger away for now, and when they come, we'll make them regret ever fucking with the royal guard."

Cadence awoke to the chatter of the others beyond the bars, eyes being met with nothing but the dim, damp ceiling just a few feet above her. The palpable rage from earlier was gone, replaced by nothing but the chilling tranquility before a storm coiled in her gut like a serpent ready to strike, running through her very veins at the mere thought of the fucks who had disregarded, mocked, and overwhelmed her through sheer virtue of their numbers. There was no fire, no brimstone, no boiling of the blood. She was naught but ice, solid and pure. She pushed herself up off the grimy floor, her hand still trembling and useless but the rest of her mostly fine. Even before she heard the chatter of the spirits, she knew it was their handiwork, as it always had been. She didn't have to check herself to know from the difference in weight, that her arms had been confiscated. But it did not matter to her, so much as the ones had taken them. Her bare hands and the spirits constantly chattering in the background of her mind would suffice, should they need to. Not even the reminder of her useless her left hand had become was enough to shake her thoughts... There would be retribution for this, all of this, of that much was absolute. Cadence returned her ears to the conversations from down the way. She couldn't see any of them in her immediate vision but from the sounds of it, the rest of them couldn't have been but a few cells down, at the very most. It seemed from the banter going on that no one was dead at least. So that was... good she guessed. For now, she set her back against the wall, continuing to listen to them to them chat as she gazed on the lame hand. Until something about the voices down the hall bothered her... and once more, she felt herself become pure ice as the the thought of their captors crossed her mind, focus honing in like a razor's edge. Her voice was taciturn as she called out, clearly hiding something just beyond the glacial abyss... "I haven't heard Karik's voice with you guys this entire time. Where is he?"

Well it certainly seemed she was back on her feet now, if the Swordsman death was anything to judge by. Getting back on Erce though, Marek couldn't but notice the beast fidgeting, irritation clear on her face. In the distance he could see just the faintest blip of blue and a few other colors floating atop the ocean breeze, disappearing beyond the docks and over the besieged city. But Marek knew that it- whatever it was, it was honestly hard to tell now that it had gotten so far away -was not the cause of the Wyvern's ire, for her expression persisted long after the shapes were gone. "...Erce? Erce, what's wrong-" No answer, instead the beast merely narrowed her gaze at the archers up ahead, and the two axemen nearby, one mighty claw scratching idly at the scales on her opposite wing. Marek saw a few of the looser scales flaking and falling to deck, and though he knew precisely what it was...there were a number of reasons the knowledge did nothing to settle his worries "Molting? What the hell, it's nowhere near that time of year yet, plus you're fully mature to boot, so it's not like you're going through some growth spurt that could cause an early one..." He trailed off as he pondered about it. Much like many reptiles, Wyverns tended to shed skin too, did it quite a bit as they grew up, but the process generally slowed down to about once a year or so once they hit adulthood, only frequent enough to replace any damaged or worn scales they'd accumulated. From all the times in the past, he knew Erce had to have at least another few months before then... so why now? Was it the sign of something more? Something wrong? For it to occur so far ahead of the normal cycle... He could not push the thought away, but his worries would do nothing towards seeing them through this battle, or lifting the burden of their fellow knights held up in the palace. Whatever it was, he made a mental note to himself, vowing to investigate it in full once the time and situation allowed... For now though, he pressed her forward just a few meters on the deck, before hopping down and readying his halberd "Look, I want you to pull back for now, I can handle the bowman and scumbags up ahead- we'll have to take a deeper look at this later." A single, rumbling snarl of protest as she refused to leave. But the young knight looked once at the spot with the shedding scales, back up to the Wyvern herself, then right back at the spot. Then over to the enemies not too far away, tightening his grip until his hands went bone white. "Hell no." he said firmly "we both know what's liable to happen when if we give those Archers an opportunity, and I'm not taking the risk while you've got... whatever this is. Fall. Back. Erce. I'm not debating this with you." She held his glare for several moments longer. But seeing the boy give not even an inch of ground, eventually the great beast gave a loud, irritated exhale before taking off, circling around towards the rear of the ship. Marek turned to Marcus nearby afterwards, eying a few brigands shredding water just off the side... "Welp marcus, things are probably gonna get dicey here...hope you're ready, mate." j25, Dismount

Oleander followed after the others with scythe in hand, keeping her eyes on the encroaching darkness with every step. Slowly but surely, her scotopic vision was already kicking into play; so many years of moving and scouting under nothing but the nonexistent light of a new moon had its benefits, as did working with the very element of darkness itself. She muttered something under her breath as she crept, not even loud enough for the others to hear, but it did not matter, for whatever arcane forces she was beseeching certainly had, and were already preparing themselves. And prepared they would need to be indeed, if somehow their assailants still managed to get the drop on them...

"I dunno..." the girl muttered back, almost pouting as she slouched forward rested her head upon the desk "He calls me his "Apprentice" whenever people ask, gives me jobs to do around the shop, old manuals and things to study and stuff to take apart. He said that if I earned my keep, I could stay, but...I dunno. Once, I got pretty sick... but instead of throwing me out like I thought he would, he took care of me until I got better- I even heard him turning down a few big jobs because of it. He was mad about it and all afterwards, but... for some reason it wasn't at me, it was at the people, the ones who had tried to get him to do the work anyway. And then there's little sully. David's always telling me how we should 'look out for each other' once we get older, that one day, he might not be around anymore...that all we have in the end is each. I don't get why he tells me... I just learn from him and all, it's not like I'm sully''s sister... well, his real sister... he doesn't even have one. But... I guess I kinda get what he means, about looking out, not having anyone but each other. Back when the others were still around, we followed the same rules, kinda. No leaving anyone behind, no bullying the weaker ones, that sorta stuff..."

There was a brilliant burst of crimson, as the demon screamed, hands clawing, tearing at the air as it's query escaped. Ragnorok hurtled itself after the fleeing pilot, its form barely recognizable, just a shining disc of electric fury that barely made it a few meters before it fell to the earth and shattered into a million radiant shards. The Armor encasing the demon's body did exactly the same, a burning silhouette of a man as it clutched what might've once been it's head. The rubble continued to pile around it, bit by bit as the sky fell. Ton after metric ton, slamming down upon it, burying the construct of hate. Bury, but not extinguish. For the fires of hell burned hottest for those who already knew they were damned, fires that even now, blossomed acrossed scattered rubble with unrivaled radiance, scalding light mixing with dust and sediment as the rest of the cavern finally gave in. An avalanche, a deluge of stone, sure to end the miserable beast that had been born from the union of man and devil. And in that moment, as that union unravelled and man and devil became separate once more, the burning man looked up at the raining rubble, his armor flaking off his very flesh like so many pieces of of brittle flint, eyes of pure scarlet gazing upon their incoming demise. Eyes that shifted between reason and oblivion, heaven and hell, staring into the abyss and held frozen as it stood back. Eyes that beheld the crossroads of life and death. In times long since past and forgotten, there might've been tales of Revenants... rotting bodies of the damned who refused to accept their fate, arose from their graves each night to make war upon the living, seeding death and destruction wherever they went, bearing strength, speed, and power most unnatural. Mindless, Soulless killing machines, born of vengeance and fueled by rage, unstoppable by all but a second death. A death so utter and complete that there would be nothing left of them. And the Revenant that was once Solomon Ryke was no different. .... .... .... But the Revenant that was now Asmodeus was a different beast entirely. Streaks of crimson gave wave to shades of grey, bursting forth from the sea of expanding rubble as it fell. Pure favor, formless, quickly collapsing in on itself even as the Goetiac Servant fought to retain what little control he had gained, Raw favor, Favor the likes of which he had never handled before but for the sake of another would handle it as best he could even it destroyed him. Favor that in those last, fleeting seconds before the end came upon Solomon, the Artificial Life he had created used to fling him clear of the disaster area. Nothing but a hurtling ball of pure, sepia light, colliding into the wall farthest from the epicenter of the cave's collapse, its radiance fading further with passing second as it tumbled down a small rocky pile that had formed there and came to a rest atop the rubble that already settled. And when it finally did fade completely, there was the Mechanic from pride. There was the boy David Ryke had tried to make strong, the boy Sharai Braixong had decided she wanted nothing to do with. The boy who Tesla Ryke had entrusted all she had left to. The boy who had given life to that which was never alive to begin with for her. The boy who had for so long defied a changing meta for her. The boy who had clawed his way to first seat for her. The boy who only in the moments of his imminent meeting with death had realized when and where he had lost his way for her. The boy who had been saved by the Machine. The boy who lived. Lived only because he still had one last mission before he could die.

` She was going to say something, but before the very words could make it of her mouth, there came a voice from just behind her, ever so subtle. Cade doubted anyone else would've even heard it... "Enough, Cadence. You gave them their chance, they refused to listen to reason. End them rightly, or your journey, and that of your friends as well, will end here, before you have done anything or saved anyone." ...Cadence couldn't deny, She had a point. "Fine." She said, voice wholly deadpan "I'll start with you then, worthless sod. Let's see how well you laugh with that tongue ripped out of your throat. And once I'm done with you all, I'll find your little benefactor too, gut him like a pig, and take whatever pay was going to be yours off his corpse." All the while, she lay her blade across her shoulder, subtly working her good hand against it's pummel in counter clockwise motions... not that any of their enemies would've been close enough to really notice something amiss. End them rightly indeed...

Just as before, two spells merged into one, the howling blasts becoming nigh unstoppable as they barreled down upon the knight. The crunch of steel caving in, the snapping of ribs and sternum, the spray of crimson as his chest was crushed like an eggshell caught beneath the heel of a giant. All in the same moment as his body was lifted off it's feet like a mere toy, hurled over his fellow's heads and down to the very end of the hall, right next to the last Knight within Cade's view. Eyes tactiturn, mouth fixed with disgust, she gave a flourish of her wrist, twirling the enchanted blade before bringing it to bear against the scavengers, thieves, and dancers still left alive. "Did you think I was playing earlier?" the glacial tone of her question was punctuated by more wind gathering to her blade, obviously preparing to counter whatever attack they might launch... "Did you think there was nothing to fear from some little girl with a sword? I bet your friends did, look at them now. I'll give you one last chance, and one only. Either you put your weapons down and run away, or I will tear through each and every one of you where you stand and leave nothing behind for your pathetic families to bury afterwards."